Uncle William: the man who was shif'less eBook

“Well, I reckon the Angil Gabriel himself’d
quarrel with a man that had one of them intermittent
fevers,” said the old man thoughtfully.
“They’re powerful trying’. You
feel better—­a little—­and you
perk up and think you’re goin’ to get
well, and then, fust thing you know, there you are—­all
to do over again. If I had my ch’ice of
all the diseases in the calendar, that’s the
one I wouldn’t take. Some on ’em
you hev the comfort of knowin’ you’ll
die of ’em—­if ye live long enough.”
He chuckled a little. “But this one, ye
can’t die and ye can’t get well.”

“But he is going to get well?”
The girl’s eyes held him.

“Yes, he’ll be all right if he can set
out in the wind a spell—­and the sun.
The fever’s broke. What he wants now is
plenty to eat and good company. You’ll
be comin’ up to see us byme-by, mebbe?”
He looked at her hopefully.

“Do you think I could?”

“Well, I dunno why not. He’ll be
gettin’ restless in a month or so. You
might as well be married up there as anywhere.
We’ve got a good minister—­a fust-rate
one.”

She smiled a little wistfully. “He won’t
have me,” she said.

“Shucks!” said Uncle William. “You
come up, and if he don’t marry you, I will.”

A bell sounded somewhere. She started. “I
must go.” A thought crossed her face.
“I wonder if you would like it—­the
recital?” She was looking at him, an amused
question in her eyes.

“Is it speaking pieces?” said Uncle William,
cautiously.

“Playing them, and singing—­one or
two. It’s a musicale, you know. You
might like it—­” She was still thinking,
her forehead a little wrinkled. “They are
nice girls and—­Oh—?” the forehead
suddenly lifted, “you would like it.
There are sea-pieces—­MacDowell’s.
They’re just the thing.—­” She
held him hospitably.—­“Do come.
You would be sure to enjoy it.”

“Like enough,” said Uncle William.
“It takes all kinds of singing to make a world.
I might like ’em fust-rate. And it won’t
take long?”

“No—­only an hour or two. You
can leave him, can’t you?” The pretty
forehead had wrinkled again.

“Easy as not,” said Uncle William.
“Best thing for him. He’ll have a
chance to miss me a little.”

She smiled at him reproachfully. “We’ll
have to hurry, I’m afraid. It’s only
a step. But we ought to go at once.”

Uncle William followed in her wake, admiring the quick,
lithe movements of the tall figure. Now that
the flower-like face was turned away, she seemed larger,
more vigorous. “A reg’lar clipper,
and built for all kinds of weather,” said Uncle
William as he followed fast. “I wouldn’t
be afraid to trust her anywheres. She’d
reef down quick in a blow.” He chuckled
to himself.

She looked around. “Here we are.”

XIV

They had paused at the foot of a flight of stairs.
Down the narrow hall-way floated a mingled sound of
voices, high and low, with drifting strains of violin-bows
laid across strings and quickly withdrawn.